Beak & Thorn
by PetruchioVerona
Summary: In the Circle of Magic, we see Rosethorn & Crane as rivals - but they weren't always that way. They were novices, journeymen, and masters at the same temple - what happened in those days?


_A prequel of sorts – we know that Rosethorn &amp; Crane are rivals in plant magic, and they've been in competition for years. But was it animosity all along?_

_As in-canon as possible, with details mostly from Briar's Book, but some from Tris's_

* * *

Underneath a breezy Carp Moon sky, a young girl stopped along the circular dirt path of the Winding Circle Temple community to examine a flower. Small and purple, with silky petals forming a cup around a bright gold stigma, the crocus bobbed in the wind.

The girl smiled. Crocuses were her favorite flower – they were the surest sign that the snow and cold of the winter months was gone for the year. They were the heralds of the growing season, the time she loved best.

A loud clock tower's tolling interrupted her reverie. Dusting dirt off her white novice's habit, she hurried on along the path. Classes were starting soon – and she was eager to see what new facts about the natural world and its plants the day would bring.

Today, class was in the biggest building of the temple – the Hub. Focus was difficult, thanks to delicious aromas wafting around the huge kitchens that were that day's classroom.

The girl pushed her auburn hair back from her eyes. Even though she'd braided it and tied it back carefully, it kept falling out. _There has got to be another way_ _to keep it in order_, she thought_. _

She brought her attention back to class. A journeyman was instructing them today. Large and jovial, with the look and hairstyle of the Yanjing Empire, he was explaining in a thick accent the various uses of common and local herbs in cooking, and what magical properties could be harnessed and enhanced by each.

The young novice liked her instruction, but she had spent so many years cooking on the farm with just these same plants that she let her attention wander. This class was for all the novices who had an interest in plants – though she suspected there were many who had chosen it for the possibility of free samples from the famed kitchens. She eyed some of her classmates suspiciously. She didn't know many yet – this was only her second week in the temple community. And many of them seemed so empty-headed. Hopefully as they all progressed in their studies she would only deal with the bright ones.

There was that one novice up near the front that she'd noticed at dinner the other night. He'd spent several minutes polishing his silverware on his robes, and directing angry glares at anyone who jostled him. Now, his eyes were glazing over as the journeyman described the culinary uses of gorse. His black hair flopped over his long nose and thin mouth.

"…when used in magical combinations, however, gorse can be used for protection, strength, or to strengthen one's faith or resolve," the journeyman continued. The black-haired novice's head jerked as he returned to attention. "Some purport that it can be used to attract wealth, but the true wealth lies in its properties for attracting or deepening feelings of love."

'_When gorse is out of blossom, then kissing's out of fashion,'_ the female novice quoted to herself. It was a common phrase back home, because the prickly bushes bore gold blooms year-round.

As class ended and the novices dispersed from the corner of the dining hall where they'd been seated, she went forward to examine the herbs that'd been out as examples. Walking at her normally clipped pace, she nearly tripped over the dark-haired boy as he suddenly rose.

"Watch it!" she snapped. "You nearly cost me a season's growth!"

"Pardon me, my lady," the boy said with an elegant drawl. "Far be it from me to wish a flower such as yourself to lose any years of blooms."

She blinked at him. What language was he speaking? She'd only ever heard such ridiculous affectations in the nobles in the Anderran capital, the single time her papa had brought her there.

The boy extended a hand with an odd little bow. "Permit me the pleasure of making your acquaintance. I am Isas fer… of Olart. Who may I say I have the joy of facing?"

She continued to stare at the odd boy's – Isas's – antics. Reluctantly she reached out a hand to clasp his. "I'm Niva. From Anderran. And –"

She lost any additional comments as the black hair fell in a swift movement and thin lips brushed her hand.

And that was when she slapped him.

* * *

_I'm planning out a full prequel, up to at least the events of Briar's Book - but would love feeback along the way!_


End file.
